Michael Jackson lip-synched in 1983 concert
Ability was striking at legendary event, but he wasn't singing live
It's nearly impossible to keep up with the tornado of stories swirling about in the days since Michael Jackson's death -- everything from conflicting statements about the biological parents of his children to reports his finances were a mess to stories saying he was so frail, the idea of doing 50 concerts in London was madness.
In a story in the Daily Mail, writer Ian Halperin goes into great detail about Jackson's alleged health and financial problems, among other sordid details.
Halperin also quotes a source who told him awhile back that Jackson was no longer able to sing well and would have to lip-synch his performances in London.
Jackson certainly wouldn't have been the only star in 2009 lip-synching his way through concert performances.
Nor would it have been the first time Jackson himself lip-synched. When I called up the video of his legendary 1983 performance at the Motown 25th Anniversary special, I was struck by Jackson's amazing agility -- but I was surprised to see he was obviously NOT singing live.
When Michael and his brothers sing a medley of Jackson Five hits, his vocals and his comments to the crowd are live.
But then Jackson goes solo. We never see the band. No backup singers in sight. Just Michael onstage in spangled vest and jacket, holding a microphone and mouthing the words. At the end, the song just fades out and the crowd cheers, a la the old days on "American Bandstand."
In fact, even the broadcast wasn't live. The special was pre-taped. What we saw in May of 1983 was a videotaped recording of Jackson dancing and lip-synching to "Billie Jean" two months earlier.
After the Sox and John Danks beat Carlos Zambrano and the Cubs last Sunday, I consoled a Cubs fan/friend of mine. Pointing to the outfield scoreboard at the Cell, I said, "Hey, Zambrano's still 4-3 on the year. He's on pace to win at least nine games. Maybe even 10 if he gets hot."
Hey, what do you want from a guy making an average of $18 million a year through 2012?
Not to disparage Zambrano's talent. We all know he's one of the top 10 pitchers in the game. The problem isn't his arm; it's the fact he often acts like a petulant Little Leaguer on the mound.
I take that back. A kid who fights with his own catcher, breaks Gatorade coolers, throws at hitters, wags his fingers at the opposition, pretends to throw an ump out of a game, etc., etc., would get kicked out of Little League.
In a Tribune poll, more than 57 percent of respondents agreed with Phil Rogers' seemingly radical suggestion the Cubs dump Zambrano.
Wow. I thought Cubs fans loved this guy. Maybe a lot of them were steaming after Zambrano's antics against the Sox on Sunday, and by now they'd change their vote.
There's no doubt Zambrano and his hothead teammate Milton Bradley are pouring their hearts into the game -- but there's also something selfish about a baseball player who loses it when things aren't going well for him. The true professionals shrug off the bad calls, the cold streaks, the rough breaks.
You also have to be aware of the greater world in which you live. It's never a good time for overpaid players to act like spoiled brats -- but especially in this economic climate, when so many fans can afford to attend maybe a couple of games a year at best, you just don't want to appear selfish and ungrateful.
I keep waiting for one of these superstars to announce he's going to donate a couple hundred grand of his salary to buy tickets for families that have been hit hard by unemployment and other setbacks.
From reader Don Shearn: Your Monday column ["What of those others who died last week?"] had particular resonance to me.
"John Cina was the longtime accompanist for Congregation Solel in Highland Park and the First United Methodist Church of La Grange. He died last week of leukemia. He had been ill for only six months, but the disease ravaged him.
"Just two weeks ago, he returned to Solel and played the piano for the choir. John had lost a lot of weight, and he wore a mask and gloves to prevent the spread of germs. . . . The emotion was so intense my wife had to leave the alto section, as she couldn't keep from crying.
"That night John played with passion and grace, as if he knew he was saying goodbye in the language of music.
"A fine musician and a finer man, John touched so many people's lives through his playing at religious services. . . . His death is not diminished by the news cycle and commerce surrounding the death of Michael Jackson and other celebrities."
Amen.